


a whirlwind that's coming 'round

by tomatoconveniencestore



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Class Trip, M/M, Skiing, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-01 19:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8635510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatoconveniencestore/pseuds/tomatoconveniencestore
Summary: Isak's classmates have been looking forward to this ski trip for months. It's supposed to be a five-day extravaganza of letting off steam, drinking, and hooking up, all under their teachers' noses. And sure, there's some skiing, too. But when the week finally rolls around, things get more complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been desperate to write something for this fandom, and this is what my mind settled on. As I've said on Tumblr, this is full of inaccuracies as far as the Norwegian school system is concerned, but I was mostly inspired by my own experiences with class skiing trips. It's hard to know as of now, but I'm aiming for somewhere around 4-5 short chapters with this one. Hope you can enjoy it despite my lazy research! :)

**MONDAY, 13:21**

“There’s no way you’re getting the top bunk, Magnus,” Jonas proclaims authoritatively, hoisting his bag on the mattress. “You wake up to pee every three hours. That’s a recipe for a disaster.”

Isak cracks a grin, but hums in agreement. Happy with his own chosen bed, the one closest to the window, he unzips his bag to start unpacking. Three shirts later, Mahdi’s behind him, curiously peering over his shoulder.

“So, did you bring the booze?” he asks, not bothering to hide his excitement. As if on cue, Magnus materializes by his side, equally enthusiastic.

Isak continues folding his clothes onto the small shelf above his bed, not looking at them. “Eskild wouldn’t get it for me,” he says, muffled.

At first the boys are silent, but a storm of disappointed shouts follows soon after his admission. “You said he’d get us some of the good stuff.” “We were counting on you, Isak!” “I only brought boxed appletini, man. I thought you had us covered!”

“Relax, guys, I came prepared,” Jonas steps in, just as Isak starts fearing that the guys might start tugging at his sleeves in exaggerated frustration. “In fact, I came prepared with a whole _bag_ of something.”

All three of them turn to face Jonas, then look at the bag he’s thrown over the top bunk. He follows their gaze, confused. Then proceeds to look back and forth between his friends and the bag, over-spilling with clothes, until he bursts out in a wave of swears.

“Goddammit, I knew I shouldn’t have put it in the pantry. I completely forgot!”

Magnus and Mahdi return to their previous breakdown, but Isak quirks an eyebrow at Jonas. “Did you hide your alcohol in the family pantry?”

Jonas shrugs, dejected. “Yeah, man. Nobody ever goes there unless they’re looking for Christmas decorations.”

Isak smiles, as if to prove his point. “Can’t imagine who would do that two weeks into December.”

There’s silence again, the guys registering his words. “ _Shit_.”

As Jonas proceeds to join the other two in their breakdown, Isak chuckles and returns to his bag. This ski trip is surely shaping up well. Entitled the “Freedom Week 2k16” by the gang, Isak wonders how long it will take them to admit “Disappointment 2k16” would be a more fitting name. Now, if he could only find his gloves.

**MONDAY, 20:36**

_The first night’s_ not _supposed to be a rave, anyway._ At least that’s what Jonas told them before they headed over to Eva and her friends’ room. He was definitely right to keep his expectations low.

Isak finds himself sitting on one of the beds, hunched between Sana and Vilde as the two passionately argue about the quality of old Christmas movies.

“You’re a lunatic. They don’t make them like they used to, it’s depressing. There’s only so many times I can get myself into proper Christmas spirit with _The Miracle on 34 th Street_!” Vilde says in lament.

“I’d rather watch _Die Hard_ every Christmas. At least it doesn’t try to make you believe a childish old man is secretly Santa, instead of having some sort of saviour complex coupled with an unfulfilled acting ambition.”

“Have you even _seen_ the movie?”

Isak keeps sending desperate glances at Jonas, but the boy’s sitting in front of Noora’s laptop, enthusiastically watching _Jingle All the Way._ He’d hope that part of Jonas’ obvious contentment stems from the fact that Eva’s cuddled up to his side; however, he suspects it comes wholly from watching Schwarzenegger compete for a creepy plastic toy amongst an array of Christmas shoppers.

He tunes out the girls’ frantic arguing and skims the room, looking for someone that looks as bored as he feels. Mahdi and Magnus are talking to a couple of girls from third year – well, they’re talking, and they’re in the proximity of some girls from third year. Noora is distributing snacks across the room, imitating Schwarzenegger’s accent as she does so. There’s some second year girls watching the movie; and some obviously not watching it, instead chatting incessantly. A guy from his class seems to be sleeping in the corner of the room, another tugging on his sock to see if he’ll wake up. And then there’s the third year boys, laughing at something by the window.

Isak doesn’t really know any of them, but gets taken aback when one turns around and looks straight at him. His face is frozen in a grin, becoming harder to decipher as he looks at Isak. His hair is coiffed and he’s holding a packet of Noora’s dinosaur crackers. Isak feels himself getting flustered at his gaze, but then –

a pillow flies through the air, a few centimetres from his face.

“You did _not_ just insult Jimmy Stewart!” Vilde says, voice barely contained. Sana, who got hit by the pillow, calmly sets it down and takes a deep breath. Isak, knowing what’s about to ensue, looks back towards the boy, hoping for a rescue. But he’s no longer there.

**TUESDAY, 10:05**

Isak’s family was never big on skiing. He only remembers a ski holiday back when he was four – his father insisting on teaching him to ski just as soon as he’d learned to cycle. However, the holiday quickly took a turn for the worse, and not only did his parents fight the whole time, his father actually ended up with a head injury. They never booked another ski trip again.

Although he did manage to learn the basics back then, he feels clumsy standing on the skis after such a long time. All around him, people seem to be floating down the hill, graceful in their turns and motions. Families slowly make their way down, holding onto each other’s hands. Some teenagers, not from their school, compete to make it to the bottom of the hill as fast as possible.

“Do you think he’s gonna win this?” Mahdi asks Isaac, nudging his shoulder and pointing in Jonas’ direction. The boy is engaged in a heated debate with their teacher, the rest of the students standing around and watching.

“No way, Gulsvig will break his snowboard before she allows him to ride it,” Isak says, convinced that the matter is going to be settled within minutes.

“Technically, they didn’t specify that we needed to bring skis,” Magnus chimes in, in Jonas’ defence.

“Yes, one would hope that there’s no need to specify that when it comes to a _ski_ trip,” Sana says, turning around from a few metres away.

Jonas lets out one last exasperated plea, then takes off his skateboard and sets off, sulking, down the hill. The teacher immediately turns around to address the students.

“Alright, we’ll first sort you into groups according to your current skill level. Beginners will be with me, intermediates with…”

**TUESDAY, 11:36**

It doesn’t come as a surprise that Isak ends up in the beginners group, yet he’s disappointed when he realizes all of his friends get sorted into different groups. He was hoping Magnus’ boasts about being a great skier would turn out to be a lie, but alas, the guy was telling truth for once.

The only person he knows in his group is Emma, a girl he’d met at yesterday’s movie party. And the guy with the dinosaur crackers. The one currently standing next to him. The one he’s steadfastly ignoring.

“Now, move your head around in circles. Very gently, though, we don’t want you breaking your necks before you even step onto your skis,” the teacher, Ms Gulsvig, instructs them. “Remember, you need to be properly warmed up before you attempt to do anything more challenging.”

Rows of students proceed to roll their eyes instead of their heads, but comply after a moment. They proceed to follow her instructions to roll their shoulders, shake up their legs, and stretch out their heels, all with varying degrees of effort.

Isak’s unsure about the usefulness of the stretches, but holds his tongue. The guy next to him, however, has been sighing steadily for the last few minutes.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, we’ve been warming up for an _hour_ ,” he finally says, snapping, and Isak can’t help but look at him now.

“She just doesn’t want us to kill ourselves under her watch,” he shrugs, suppressing a grin at the boy’s frustrated frown. “Gulsvig’s notorious for not allowing students to chew gum in her classes, in case they end up choking.”

“When you’re flying down that hill, it won’t matter whether you’ve done ten arm swings or five. The only way you can really learn to ski is to – ” the boy says, turning to Isak, pausing as he takes him in. His frown eases.

“Actually ski?” Isak says, helping him finish.

The boy smiles and nods. “Exactly.”

“Then why don’t you just show her how it’s done, eh?” Isak can’t help but say, teasing him. To his surprise, the boy seems to take his challenge seriously.

“You know what, you’re right,” he says, reaching up to pull his ski goggles on. “What’s your name?”

Isak’s breath hitches, taken aback. He registers the rest of the class now moving onto torso twists, but his body remains frozen. “Isak.”

“Great,” the boy grins. “Watch and learn, Isak.”

Without further ado, he steps into his skis, something Ms Gulsvig has expressly forbidden them from doing, and grabs his ski sticks. In a matter of seconds, he’s pushing himself off from his spot, down towards the lodge. Neither are they that high up on the hill, nor is this area very steep, yet he seems to pick up speed very quickly. Although rough around the edges, Isak can see that the boy has some semblance of skill.

“Even Bech Næsheim, just what do you think you’re doing?!” Gulsvig yells once she notices his d from the group.

The boy is almost down now, just a few metres from the lodge. Isak starts thinking that he might pull this off. He also finds himself rooting for him. As soon as the teacher’s shout reaches him, however, the boy seems to stumble over his skis. Balance gone, he glides on his left foot, kicking out the right, his arms splaying out in panic. He tries to regain his composure, but his trajectory shifts rapidly and, all of a sudden, he’s heading towards a tree near the ski lifts. Isak closes his eyes at the last moment; he still hears the impact.

The class, Gulsvig in the lead, immediately runs down towards him. Isak keeps himself to the back, cautious of what he might see when they reach him.

To his surprise, the boy is sitting up, shaken but lively. He’s grinning at the rest of the class, leaning against the tree trunk as if he’s only come here for a moment’s rest.

“And that, friends, is how _not_ to do it,” he says, cheerful. Gulsvig looks like she’s moments from bursting, some of the students seem to be horrified, others are cracking up. The boy – Even – takes them all in, unfazed, then finds Isak in the crowd and shoots him a wink.


	2. Chapter 2

**WEDNESDAY, 11:14**

Isak’s got this. His skis are in the right position, sticks gripped firmly in both hands. This is his third attempt so he can’t fall, because third time’s the charm. He’s about to push himself off when an unidentifiable object comes skidding in front of him, tripping, ending up in a pile a few metres off.

“Are you okay?” he says, exasperated, as the object – Even – picks himself up.

“Sure am. I made it twelve seconds without a fall this time,” he says, smiling, and scrambles up the hill towards Isak.

“Gulsvig must have a personal vendetta against me,” Isak mutters, loud enough for Even to hear, “pairing me up with the kamikaze guy.”

Even laughs. “Now, now. She knows what she’s doing. You need to loosen up, Isak. Let yourself go.”

“Into a tree, you mean?” Isak asks, once again assuming his posture, ready to set off.

“Okay, fair,” Even admits, coming to stand next to him. “But we’ve been here two hours and you’ve only made it down the hill twice.”

Isak ignores him and focuses on the slope in front of them. Not too steep if he keeps to the right, but there’s fewer people on the left. He could try to manoeuvre through the ones on the right, but perhaps if he managed to brake more effectively… Something pokes him under his shoulder blades.  

“You’re too rigid. That’s the best way to get yourself to fall,” Even says, schooling him. Isak realizes it was one of his ski sticks stabbing him, as the boy proceeds to point with it at his knees. “Look, your legs need to be looser.”

“It’s almost like you weren’t lying in the snow a few seconds ago,” Isak says, but relaxes his knees a little. At first he was annoyed by Even’s know-it-all act, but watching him fall each time he’s tried to give Isak advice has significantly lessened his frustration.

“True, but I enjoyed myself thoroughly,” Even says.

Just then, Noora comes sliding from above, effortlessly stopping in front of them. She lifts up her goggles and regards them with a smirk, eyes scrunched up. “Thinking of going professional, boys?”

Isak ignores her; Even plays along: “Almost there. I’d watch your back.”

Noora laughs. Then, as if remembering something, her face turns more solemn. “How are your friends, Isak?”

Even gives him a curious look. Apart from skiing techniques, they haven’t discussed much since they’ve been paired up this morning. Makes sense that he hasn’t heard about the incident.

“They should be back in full form tomorrow. Nurse says it’s just some – uh – stomach problems,” he explains. Noora hums in sympathy. At Even’s noncomprehending stare, he elaborates in an embarrassed mutter: “My friends didn’t like the dinner last night, so – instead they ate some raw ramen noodles and washed them down with hot water. _Bad_ idea.”

Even looks like he wants to crack up, and Isak understands, but memories of last night are still too fresh in his mind to look at the situation with humour.

“It’s a shame they missed the party last night. Vilde brought Twister,” Noora says teasingly.

“Well, see you on the other side,” with that, she departs in a smooth turn, leaving them to gawk at her.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. She doesn’t think, she just – _skis_ ,” Even says, gesturing at her diminishing silhouette. “Here – grab this.”

He holds out the end of one of his ski sticks to Isak, looking at him meaningfully. When Isak doesn’t cooperate, he gently pokes him in the ribs.

“Grab the end of that. We’re gonna try this together,” he says, as if making perfect sense.

“Are you crazy? You can’t ski, I can’t ski – together, we’re gonna _die_ ,” Isak says, pushing the stick away. Even doesn’t relent.

“No, we’re gonna _fall_. And then we’ll try again,” he says, seemingly delighted by his plan. “Come on.”

Isak, still doubtful, looks at the stick. Alright, he’s fallen a few times already. Sure, it hurts a bit, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. And, maybe their combined clumsiness will miraculously make them not fall. Maybe.

“Oh, whatever,” he grabs the stick and ignores Even’s winning grin, focusing on the snowy ground underfoot. “Go ahead.”

Obediently, Even starts edging down the slope, tugging Isak after him. Seconds feel like minutes as they begin accelerating, slowly passing a couple of elderly skiers who grin at them in amusement. They make it past the fir tree, the one Isak’s previously almost smashed into. Then they pass Emma and her friends, still going strong. Even likely feels as surprised by this turn of events as him -- he looks over his shoulder to grin at Isak– and that’s a fatal mistake.

Three minutes later, they’re lying on their back, snow all over their faces, skis scattered across the hill. Isak whimpers, spitting out some of the snow that’s gotten into his mouth. He feels Even shuffling next to him, obviously alive. He doesn’t bother to move.

“Are you alright?” Even asks, concerned .

 “Just – taking a break,” he says. It’s not that this is the most comfortable place to rest in; he just needs to catch his breath. This fall hurt a bit more, there’s that. He’s also genuinely frustrated at his inability to hold his balance. And – skiing with Even, the two of them trying to save each other from the fall – it made him strangely excited. He can still feel his heartbeat in his throat.

“Okay,” Even says, lying back down as well. He’s closer to Isak than he was a minute ago, staring at the clouds above them. In turn, Isak stares at his face, surprised to notice freckles around his nose. And his hair – how come does it hold its shape so well after being repeatedly drenched in snow?

“God, the music’s dreadful,” Even breaks the silence, making Isak guiltily turn away his gaze. “I wonder who’s in charge.”

“I’m sure the ski resort has a resident DJ,” Isak says, trying to calm down his heartbeat. It’s been a while since the fall, the adrenaline should’ve gone down already.

“That’s a tempting career option,” Even says. “If all else fails, I could educate the masses on Nas and Big L.”

“Nas?” Isak laughs. “You’d be out of the job in a week.”

“Hey now, what superior music do _you_ listen to?” Even asks, hoisting himself up on his elbow to mock-frown at Isak.

“N.W.A, Cypress Hill, Mobb Deep,” Isak says, listing the artists off on his fingers. “You know, _actual_ music.”

“Wouldn’t peg you for a music snob,” Even says, shaking his head. “Nobody knows who those are. You wouldn’t even get the job in the first place.”

“Ouch,” Isak pretends to be offended. “That hurts, coming from a Nas fan.”

Both of them crack up. After a while, Isak deems it safe to look at Even again. He finds the boy staring back at him. Before he can stop himself, he blurts out: “I have some CDs that you could listen to. You know, if you wanted to get a taste of real music.”

He expects Even to laugh him off, but he doesn’t. “Hm. Alright, I suppose I could give them a try. Are you free tonight?”

_No_ , Isak wants to say. Mahdi and Magnus should be alright by the time they’re back, and surely they’ll want to party with the girls. Jonas too. They’re going to be disappointed if he doesn’t go with them. “Sure. Room 31?”

“I’ll be there,” Even says, and stands up in a blink. “Now, let’s get back to business.”

Isak watches him gather up his skis and step into them. He waves at Isak, then disappears somewhere beyond his gaze. Moments later, he hears a loud thump –  followed by an even louder swear. He can’t help but laugh.

**WEDNESDAY 20:58**

_apparently there’s supposed to be a meteor shower on friday, when i'm on a class trip in voss. wish me luck that I catch it!_ _#cameraontheready_ _#whenyouwishuponastar_

Isak jumps when there’s a knock on the door, and hurriedly shuts down the Facebook page he’s been browsing through for the last hour. He sits up on his bed, absently runs his hand through his hair, and checks the room quickly, looking to see if anything needs to be stuffed away. Mahdi has left a stack of his wet ski clothes on his bed, but Isak would rather leave that for him to sort out. The knocking gets more insistent.

“Coming!” he shouts as he stands up, shooting himself a quick glance in the mirror. His reflection appears flustered, and he scolds himself mentally. God, why so nervous about sharing his music collection with some guy? It’s not like Even, the boy who’s spent half an hour digging himself out of a snow pile, is some paragon of coolness.

He opens the door at last, coming face to face not with the smug grin he’s come to expect, but two mugs, obviously stolen from the hotel’s cafeteria.

“Hope you like hot chocolate,” Even says as he lowers the mugs – and _there’s_ that grin. Isak feels himself relax.

“Who doesn’t like hot chocolate, honestly?” he says, holding the door open for Even to come in. The boy eyes the beds in the room and Isak points at the one he’s claimed. Even walks over to it and plops down on the mattress, setting the mugs down onto the nearby windowsill.

“Well, I had to, uh, _improvise_ with these,” Even says as Isak comes to join him, clearing out a patch of the bed that’s previously been occupied by his CDs. He quirks an eyebrow at Even, suspicious.

“I didn’t have any cocoa powder, so it’s just melted chocolate and some milk. Also, the cafeteria didn’t have cinnamon, so I had to be creative with the spices,” Even shrugs, but reaches out for one of the mugs, as if to convince Isak that they’re not poisonous.

“Creative how?” Isak asks, picking up his own mug and giving it a sniff. It smells like regular hot chocolate, but –

“I put some cardamom in it,” Even says, taking a small sip. He grimaces a bit, but hides it behind a smile. “Delicious _and_ healthy.”

Once they make it through the drinks – a feat that takes significantly longer than a regular hot chocolate would – Isak brings out the CDs. He’s put some thought into the order he wants to play them in. A strong start, to grab Even’s interest, and a likewise strong end, with some of his favourites. Hopefully, the middle they can chat through.

And they do. An hour later, Even’s half-lying on the bed, Isak’s half-stuck out of the window, smoking, and the tones of _Still D.R.E._ are nothing but background noise.

“Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy taking photos. But I like it when there’s motion involved. And a sense of time, passing,” Even explains, playing with one of the CD covers in his hands.

Isak chokes on his cigarette as he struggles not to laugh. “That’s deep,” he says, with put-upon seriousness. Even tries to nudge him with his foot, missing; it’s not like he put in much effort anyway.

“Can’t help it, it’s the artist in me,” he puts on a snobby accent and reaches out for Isak’s cigarette. He hands it to him, leaning back against the window, watching as Even takes a drag, smoke curling around his lips.

“What sort of things do you shoot, then? My friend Eskild registered with a casting agency last year – maybe I could introduce you two?” he says, laughing internally at the image of Eskild starring in an uber dramatic student film. He’d never let him live it down.

Even smiles around the cigarette stub. “Is this the same Eskild you mentioned hogging the bathroom every morning, singing _It’s Raining Men_?”

It’s Isak’s turn to try to kick him, but Even dodges his foot.

“Hey, he’s actually super nice. Once you get to know him,” Isak says, tugging at the bottom of his sleeve. He now feels guilty about making fun of Eskild; it’s not like he’s there to defend himself. Even seems to register the subtle change in his mood, and he sits up higher on the bed.

“How did you two come to live together, anyway?” he asks, without the usual jokey note in his voice.

“Oh, it’s a long story,” Isak says, still not looking at him. Thinking about that makes him think about his family, which in turn makes him think about what his mother might be doing at the moment, and none of those thoughts are something he wants to dwell on right now.

“We have – what – three other Ice Cube CDs to get through. I have time.”

Isak forces himself to smile a little, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he focuses his gaze on the bunk bed opposite him. Magnus has apparently brought a pillow with him. A pillow with Ninja Turtles on it. Unbelievable.  

“Was it – something to do with your parents?”

More silence. A pair of knees suddenly comes into his view, and smoke whiffs under his nose. He looks up from the pillow he’s been studying, finding Even’s serious face just inches from his own. Isak leans back immediately, heat creeping up his face. A show-off filmmaker with no concept of personal space? He was struggling to figure Even out.

“Look, I can drop it, but –“ instead of letting Even finish, he reaches up to steal the remnants of the cigarette from his lips, making the boy cry out in surprise. “Hey!”

“It was mine in the first place,” he says, blowing the smoke in Even’s direction.

“Oh yeah?” Even says, some semblance of challenge in his voice.

“Yeah,” Isak says, unimpressed. He provocatively takes in another drag. Even frowns, his eyes flicking between the cigarette and Isak’s quirked brows. He straightens up and –

The door to the room flies open, Jonas and the guys storming in with exaggerated groans. Magnus immediately flings himself onto Mahdi’s bed, whining, as if in pain. Instead of kicking him out, Mahdi sits next to him and pats him on the back in support. Jonas is the last one to join them, kicking off his boots. “Those goddamn posers. I bet he’s faking, All the third years want is attention.”

At that, Even unfreezes from where he’s suspended in mid-motion, and gives a pointed cough. Isak immediately shuffles back towards the window, as the guys stop their wallowing and finally notice their presence.

“Isak, what –“ Jonas starts, then frowns in contempt. “Oh no, you’re one of _them_.”

Isak would have to laugh at the amount of disdain Jonas manages to convey with that one word, but he’s still reeling. He schools his expression into a suffering grimace and reflexively grabs his stomach, remembering the excuse he’s given his friends for not going to party with them. Stomach ache. Well, not that far from the truth – his stomach has been doing some rather strange jumps all evening.

“What – what happened, guys?” he asks at last.

Jonas scoffs, gesturing to Even. “Ask your friend. His pals ruined our party.”

Isak and Even exchange a quick glance, both equally confused. Jonas lets out a long suffering sigh. “One of the third years – _apparently_ – broke both of his wrists and had to be taken to the hospital.”

“The girls don’t feel like ‘partying’,” Mahdi adds, using air quotes for emphasis. “Instead they’re putting together some sort of care basket and planning how to sneak into the hospital tomorrow.”

“We should headbutt the chairlift tomorrow. Maybe a concussion is all a guy needs to get some game,” Magnus joins in, head still buried in the mattress, voice muffled.

At the sight of their collective desperation, Isak can’t help but chuckle. Even joins him, but the rest of the guys refuse to see any humour in the situation. In fact, Jonas’ offended frown deepens.

“Who are you, anyway?” he shoots at Even, crossing his arms defensively.

“Uh,” Even looks at Isak briefly, skims the rest of the room. Isak’s told him about the medical ailment he’d faked before his friends’ departure, surely he’ll – “I just came to return Isak’s gloves,” he finishes, picking them up from where they’re lying on the bedside table.

“Those are mine, actually,” Jonas says, brows still knit in a scowl. “Isak forgot his.”

Even pauses, then coughs lightly, hands the gloves to Isak. “Right. I, um, better get going.”

He gives Isak an off-handed wave and leaves the room in a quick flurry of movement, not giving the other boy a chance to respond. Once gone, the room falls silent again. Isak feels as if he’s on stage, the rest of them waiting for him to speak. Then the tension falls away.

“Tomorrow. The party _has_ to happen tomorrow,” Jonas pronounces gravely, and thus spurs on a wave of fervent agreement from the remaining boys. Isak shakes off the last vestiges of his awkwardness and joins in, but doesn’t let go of the gloves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that wasn't too cringe-worthy, it's been months since I wrote something except essays. I'm trying to keep myself a chapter ahead before posting, but I probably won't update tomorrow - it's a Friday, after all! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**THURSDAY, 10:03**

It rained overnight, the snow freezing into a slippery mush that almost made Gulsvig cry at the sight of it. To her credit, she had the students wait while she made her way up the mountain, testing the proverbial waters. Upon managing to, with slight hitches, make it down the hill unscathed, she somewhat relaxed. “Today you’ll be paired up across groups. So that if something goes wrong, you’ll have someone more experienced looking after you.”

“Ms Gulsvig, that only works if you yourself are the less experienced person in the group,” Noora reminded her. The teacher, however, pretended not to hear her remark, and started yelling out names.

Surprising even himself, Isak doesn’t feel as if the frozen snow has impacted his improving skiing skills. In fact, he’s currently skiing at a leisurely pace, securely holding both of his sticks, as well as his balance; meanwhile, Sana waits on him by their designated meeting place, checking something on her phone.

When she spots him approaching, she pockets the phone, ready to ski to the next meeting point. “You’re really getting better at this. Gulsvig should be paying me for giving out lessons on her behalf.”

“Don’t get snotty,” Isak says, braking in an ungraceful yet effective U-turn. “I was pretty good even before you started pestering me.”

“At falling, maybe,” Sana says, setting downwards without bothering to pull on her goggles. “You and that boy from 3A seemed to excel at it yesterday.”

After three more journeys up and down the hill, Sana demands that they have a lunch break. He’s convinced she simply wants to meet up with the girls, but once they get to the lodge, he doesn’t see them anywhere in the restaurant.

They get a table near the fireplace – though there’s no fire in it – and strip off the uncomfortable jackets, covered in snow. Sana whips out her phone almost immediately, falling silent. Then she looks around, checking the territory, and says in a lowered tone: “So the party tonight is gonna be in Anna’s room, 403. Her brother’s a technician, so she stole some really good speakers off of him.”

Isak nods, then hesitates. “Isn’t Ms Andersen in 45?”

“Well, they’re still good on low volume,” Sana shrugs, then reaches into her pockets again to retrieve her wallet. “Do you want something to eat?”

Isak skims the menu, carved into a wooden log close to the lodge’s entrance. “Uh, just some toast, please,” he unzips his own pockets, looking for spare change, but appears to find a paper note instead. Upon pulling it out of his pocket, it turns out to just be a piece of paper, but –

He unfolds it, curious, and realizes it’s a drawing. _Two_ drawings. In one, there’s two figures covered in a heap of snow, only their heads protruding. In the other, the same two figures are skiing down a hill, laughing. One of them, labelled I, is only standing on one foot, balancing seamlessly. The other boy, E, is looking at him while skiing backwards, unperturbed. Above the second image, a handwritten sign says: _IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE_.

He jumps when he hears a pointed cough, Sana staring at him with her hand held out. “A cheese toast alright?”

“Uh, yeah,” he stammers, finally producing some kroner and stuffing the note back to where it came from. “Thank you.”

Sana nods and stands up to leave. Just before she’s out of earshot, he can see her smirking and muttering: “There’s no chance that boy can ski backwards in _any_ universe.”

**THURSDAY, 21:20**

When Isak relayed the message about the party to his friends, Magnus whistled appreciatively. “That’s on the top floor, those rooms are huge!”

The top floor, however, turns out to be a problem of its own when they leave for the party that evening. Only one staircase leads up to it; a spiral, steep, darkly lit staircase that also leads to the teachers’ room on the same floor. Trying to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible, the boys make their way up, using their phones as torchlights, fake Sprite bottles with Mahdi’s disgusting Appletini in their free hands.

“Isak, man, you almost smashed the bottle into the railing,” Mahdi says, his outraged voice a little louder than a whisper.

“Relax, it’s a plastic bottle,” Jonas retorts, rolling his eyes.

“A bottle of coke exploded in my room once,” Magnus chimes in.

“That’s different. See, if you let the pressure –“

“Shhh,” a collective hushing noise travels towards them from somewhere above. All four of them turn their phones towards its source, and find a group of students sitting at the top of the staircase in contorted positions, obviously crammed and uncomfortable.

“What’s going on here?” Isak asks, scanning their faces. His heart jumps a little when he sees Even on the step closest to them.

“The teachers,” one of the girls explains, her back plastered to the dusty wall. “They’re all up there.”

Jonas nudges Isak, curious to judge the situation from up close. Isak crawls up the last few steps of the staircase, craning his neck to see into the corridor blocked by the other student’s silhouettes.

“Hey,” Even says, almost imperceptible. Isak gives him a smile in return but immediately refocuses his attention on the strange commotion that seems to be coming from one of the rooms upstairs. He can make out faint music – _disco_ – and wild bursts of laughter.

Looking at the faces of the surrounding students again, realization slowly dawns on him. “Are they having a –“

A girl appears from the shadows at the top of the stairs, dressed in pyjamas and holding an empty glass; the appointed eavesdropper. “Gulsvig just said that they need to get more booze. She proposed room inspections.”

The group of students freezes in collective panic, swearwords echoing in the overcrowded space. Hushed suggestions start flying out left and right, some hoping to relocate the party elsewhere, at a later time, others giving up on it altogether. Their volume gradually rises, until a loud bang of a door being shut reverberates from the corridor.

“Shhh,” all of them take a few steps backwards, as if that could help them disappear completely. In the silence that follows, it feels as if all of them have stopped breathing; footsteps, on the other hand, quickly rise in volume.

The mass of students moves even further back, effectively pressing Isak side-to-side with Even. His own sped up breathing soon becomes the only thing he can focus on. That, and the footsteps, now dangerously close –

They hear the door open again, the music becoming more discernible – Sister Sledge – and a teacher yells: “Wait, Henrik, Susanna found those photos! We can go and get the cigarettes later.”

A few tense seconds tick by. Finally, the other teacher replies: “Alright. But they better be worth it.”

As soon as the door shuts again, the staircase erupts in a massive sigh of relief.

“Thank god for teachers’ vices, eh?” Even says, piercing Isak with his amused eyes. The other boy retorts by elbowing him gently.

Some students from the top of the stairs starts gesturing at the rest of them, trying to get them to climb downwards. Traumatised, none of them protest.

Sure, Mahdi seems disappointed enough to take a swig out of the disgusting Appletini, but as soon as he swallows it, he says with utter conviction: “So, tomorrow, the party has to happen. _Anything_ it takes.”

 

**FRIDAY, 11:05**

Jonas frowns at the colourful skis stuck in the ground in front of him. Based on his expression, you’d think they were an unrelenting wasp, or a homeroom teacher, announcing an unexpected test.

“Did the skis insult your eyebrows?” Isak asks, fastening on his own ski boots.

“Never – ever, _ever_ – borrow skis from a ski resort. These slabs of metal cost a fortune,” Jonas sighs, picking them up and slamming them onto the snow violently. “Honestly, a snowboard is a hundred times safer than these prehistoric things.”

“Shouldn’t have trouble racing you, then,” Isak says, sliding forth towards the chairlift. He has to let two of the seaters pass, waiting until Jonas joins him. They buckle themselves up, just as a group of girls starts climbing into the next seater, one of them waving in their direction. Emma.

“So I’ve heard your girl is saving us all tonight,” Jonas says, once in they’re in the air. Isak shoots him an incredulous look.

“You know, Emma,” Jonas says, gesturing towards the girl in question, currently a few metres underneath them. “She’s volunteered to have the party at hers. None of the teachers are gonna suspect.”

Seeing as Isak’s incomprehension fails to budge, Jonas smiles at him with mirth. “What, no need to be shy, bro! The girl’s been asking about you all over.”

“Who, _Emma_?” Isak says, disbelieving. “We’ve only talked once.”

Jonas doesn’t falter: “Well, you’ve obviously made an impression on her. She sent Mahdi a text, asking if you’re coming tonight.”

Isak’s eyes skid from Jonas to the short-haired girl, engaged in a lively conversation with her friends. Jonas must be pulling his leg. “I mean, she’s nice, but –“

“That’s the spirit, man! And don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to _talk_ tonight,” Jonas teases him, not even bothering to be subtle with his innuendo.

Isak keeps silent for the rest of the ride, then proceeds to virtually jump off the seater when he sees the group of girls unbuckling their own seatbelts. In record time, he grips his sticks and pushes himself down the slope, shouting after Jonas: “Said I’d race you.”

The race is a gross miscalculation of his skills right from the beginning, but somehow it takes until halfway down the hill that he manages to trip over his own feet. Expecting Jonas to come laughing at him, he shuts his eyes after the impact, letting himself make a sad-looking non-angel in the snow.

“Are you okay, Isak?” a female voice surprises him, and he opens his eyes to see – Emma.

**FRIDAY, 12:25**

“And it’s not that I don’t like maths – _I do_ – but I wish she’d let me sign up for the science competition for once, you know?” Emma says with a heavy sigh.

“Oh, certainly,” Jonas says, echoing her weary tone. Isak only hums.

They’re sitting on the chairlift again, Emma in the centre, discussing their favourite school subjects. Or at least that’s what Emma’s doing. Isak’s been written out of the conversation as soon as he’d announced he had a soft spot for Home Economics.

Once on their skis, Emma announces she’d like to try the route on the left – one that leads through a small smothering of trees. “It’s beautiful. My friend Rebeka took some photos of it yesterday.”

At the mention of photos, Isak feels an unexpected pang in his chest. It’s Friday – the night of the northern lights. He eyes the trail suspiciously, already certain that skiing down that slope would be a stunning exercise in humiliation.

“Maybe next time,” he brushes off Emma’s suggestion, not wanting to sound like a total chicken. “You two go ahead, I’m gonna get some food from the lodge.”

Emma’s eyes light up at the mention of food, but Isak doesn’t give her a chance to speak.

“See you in a bit,” he says, leaving them staring. If he feels a hint of guilt, he does his best to shake it off. Stumbling a little on his skis, he shakes it off _both_ literally and figuratively. 

**FRIDAY, 12:48**

Upon learning that, in support of a campaign emphasising the importance of local farmers, the cafeteria would be serving hot chocolate made exclusively with goat’s milk, Isak makes a quick beeline for the hot drink vending machine. Ah, good-old frothy overpriced hot chocolate. He holds it to himself almost protectively and heads outside, to where he’s momentarily left his skis. In the door, he almost collides with another body.

Even grins at him in greeting, blinking at the cup he’s holding. “With cardamom, I hope.”

“No cardamom,” Isak answers, smiling despite himself. “But no goat milk either.”

Even’s eyebrows furrow quizzically, but Isak doesn’t bother to elaborate. He fills the ensuing silence by taking a sip of his beverage and scalding his tongue, holding back a swear. Even, bless him, doesn’t comment on his pained grimace.

“Are you on your lunch break?” he asks instead, eyeing the interior of the cafeteria.

“You could say that,” Isak holds up the cup.

“Mind if I join you?” Even says, unzipping one of his pockets and pointing at an inconspicuous pack of cigarettes hiding within. Confident in the clarity of his offer, he hides it just as quickly. “There’s benches at the back.”

“Let me get my skis,” Isak says, brushing past him. A freezing gust of wind hits his face immediately, but he sighs in relief. It’s just what his over-heated face needs to get back to normal.

**FRIDAY, 13:01**

The snowman stares at them with two crooked eyes made out of chewing gum, and an equally crooked twig-mouth. Instead of a nose, two poked-in holes symbolise his nostrils. Isak takes a few steps back, examining the creature warily.

“It’s creepy,” he pronounces, takes the last sip of his chocolate and sticks the empty cup on top of the snowman’s head. “Makes it even worse.”

“We’re working with limited resources,” Even says with a shrug. He makes up a small ball of snow, attaching it to the snowmen’s left side, and repeats the process on the right. “He’s got arms now. What more could a snowman wish for.”

Isak rolls his eyes good-naturedly and takes a few steps backwards, plopping back onto one of the benches. After finishing the snowman off with another twig, stabbed through his left arm, Even comes to join him. He takes out the promised – and long since forgotten – cigarettes, lighting one up.

“How’s your skiing? You must’ve been relieved to find out we wouldn’t be in pairs today,” he says, taking a drag and passing the cigarette off to Isak.

“Been jumping in joy all day,” Isak says, coughing a little as the smoke fills up his lungs.

“Did you like the drawing yesterday?” Even says, rapidly making him develop a full-blown coughing fit.

“How did you – I mean, _yeah_ , but when did you put that into my jacket?” Isak asks, suddenly interested in examining the texture of some snowflakes on his trousers. Even’s knee nudges his, making him look up.

“Put it in there yesterday, before Gulsvig paired you up with that girl – Sana?” he explains offhandedly. “Thought you might find it funny.”

Isak gives him the cigarette, using his now-empty fingers to tap himself on the knees in a random rhythm. “I did. It was really good, too. I take it you draw?”

Even takes a while to reply, shrugging. “Me and Sonja have been taking art classes since primary school. It’s second nature now.”

“Sonja?” Isak says, his eyebrows jumping up at the unfamiliar name.

Even’s face scrunches up a little, as if taken off-guard. He takes a long drag of the cigarette, holding his breath in. “My best friend,” he says, letting the smoke out, “and girlfriend.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Isak stops drumming onto his legs momentarily. When he catches himself, he starts again, with renewed enthusiasm. “Alright. Have you – have you been together for quite a while?”

Even hums: “About four years. We sort of grew up together.”

“Cool,” Isak says, developing an intense interest in the way the tips of his gloved fingers hit the surface of his pants. He decides to nod for added emphasis. “Cool.”

Even offers him the cigarette, but he shakes his head. The other boy lets the silence linger, finishing off the stub. Once done, he drops it onto the ground and stamps on it with his ski boots, covering it with a layer of thick snow. He slips off the bench and crouches down, collecting some of the snow into his hands.

“Do you have one? I mean, a girlfriend,” he asks, working on shaping the snow into a perfect ball.

“No,” Isak says instantaneously. Brows furrowing, something makes him add: “But there’s this girl – Emma.”

Even throws him an over-the-shoulder glance, but quickly refocuses on the snowball. “You like her?”

“Well,” Isak’s voice trails off. He’s not sure what to say. “She seems to like _me_.”

He observes the way Even’s hands still, then pat the ball with more rigour. He doesn’t acknowledge Isak’s awkward admission, keeping his head turned away. The ball, meanwhile, is reaching the size and shape of a lopsided cantaloupe. Finally, Even appraises his masterpiece and returns back to the bench, still holding it in his gloves.

“If she’s seen you skiing, she’s definitely a keeper,” he says at last, grinning at Isak in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Isak retorts. He’s not sure why, but he wishes he didn’t bring up Emma at all.

“Excuse you?” Even says, mock-affronted, and all of a sudden Isak stops thinking -- about Emma, about Even, about the weird pit in his stomach – as the carefully prepared snowball hits him on the back of his neck.

He freezes briefly, his arms tensing and eyes closing defensively, as if expecting another attack from the front. When it doesn’t come, he slowly unflexes his muscles and straightens up, letting out a heavy breath. Slowly, he turns his head to look at Even, the snow sliding further down his skin. The other boy looks at him in pure malicious glee. Alright then.

Isak doesn’t bother with a ball. He reaches down to scoop some snow into his palm and swiftly throws it into Even’s face. It lands with perfect precision, making the boy jump.

Of course once he shakes it off, Even tries to retaliate, but Isak doesn’t give him a chance, standing up and running towards a nearby tree.

“Coward!” Even yells at him, throwing several snowballs at the trunk of the tree. Isak tries to fire a couple of stealthy shots himself, but none of them reach their target. Even now crouches behind the bench, building a further barrier made of snow on its wooden surface. Isak sends a big ball towards it, and succeeds in breaking the barrier, and hitting Even’s shoulder.

He ducks behind the tree as soon as he sees Even’s renewed determination, but when no attack comes for several seconds, he chances another look in the bench’s direction. Only Even’s nowhere near it. Because he’s standing right beside the tree.

Before he has a chance to run for escape, Isak finds himself on the frozen ground. He manages to take Even down with him, splashing some snow into his face as he goes. Abandoning all finesse, they compete in getting the other person to resemble their disfigured snowman. Somewhere along the way, their ferocity gives way to laughter. Giggling, soaked, cheeks red and burning, they both cease fire and catch their breaths, lying in the snow.

“Are you going to the party tonight?” Even says, his voice strained and breathless after the fight.

“I think so,” Isak says. “Are you?”

Even hums in agreement. He stands up and brushes off the snow from his clothes, resembling a dog that’s just come out of the water. Isak notes that his hair still looks immaculate.

“See you there?” Even extends a hand towards Isak, offering to help him stand up.

Impulsively, Isak gathers up a pile of snow and sends it flying towards Even. It lands on top of his head, just as planned.

Even takes his hand back, scoffing. Without further words, he turns on his heel and leaves Isak lying on the ground, beaming. 


	4. Chapter 4

**FRIDAY, 19:47**

At half past seven, after-dinner and freshly showered, Magnus insists they leave for the party. Jonas shoots him down, his hair wrapped in a towel: “Look, if the party’s supposed to start at half past, you can’t leave this early. It’s still going to be dead.”

Ten minutes later, his hair now dry and containing just the right amount of hair gel, he announces it’s time to leave. Nobody bothers to judge him, the anticipation likely getting the best of them.

Miraculously, the room is already crowded when they get there. Originally meant for four people, it now tries to hold at least five times as many, and the incoming flow of bodies isn’t ceasing. Isak scans the room briefly, noticing there’s at least some people from each class. A set of tinny speakers floats in the middle of the room, dangling from some sort of thread, fastened to the ceiling. It looks like it’s eagerly anticipating the first person to hit their head on it.

“Okay, everyone,” Noora says, her voice raising above the buzz of the chatting students, “remember that while they say ‘liquor before beer, you’re in the clear’, that’s hardly gonna work if you drink at the pace of an antelope escaping a tiger.”

Judging by the randomly escalating tone of her voice, and her slightly red cheeks, she herself is well into this proverbial evasion. Vilde laughs at her, equally tipsy, shushing her with vigour. Most of the students don’t seem to pay them any attention.

“Isak!” suddenly, Isak finds his arm in a tight grip of a set of hands. Emma materializes in front of him, radiating with delight. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show up after you left us hanging today!”

He awkwardly pats her hands, hoping it might loosen her grasp, and gives her a well-meaning smile.

“Didn’t feel too good – stomach bug, I think.” At her compassionate expression, he quickly tries to backtrack. “But I’m all good now!”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she says, beams, then finally lets go. She points towards one of the beds, provisionally made to look like a bar, and addresses the rest of his friends as well: “Help yourselves to some drinks and snacks. We’re just waiting for more people to get here and then we’ll play some games.”

“ _Awesome_!” Mahdi exclaims, dumping his own Appletini bottles onto Emma and heading towards the bar with Magnus. Jonas catches Isak’s attention, glancing between him and Emma, and wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. Once sure his message has been received, he follows their friends, a suspicious swing in his step.

“Uh, thanks,” Isak says, helping her set the bottles down onto a nearby bedside table. “It’s nice of you to host the party.”

“No problem,” Emma says, belatedly examining the Sprite bottles. “Tell me if you know any good party games. Vilde didn’t want to bring Twister after the last time –“

She keeps talking, but Isak involuntarily tunes her out, his attention focusing on a person on the opposite side of the room. Even stands in a corner with a group of his classmates, holding a glass of orange liquid, laughing. Out of the corner of his eye, he keeps staring at Isak as well.

“ – were thinking _Drunk Scrabble_ , _Submarine_ , maybe _Flip Cup_. What do you think?” Emma’s questioning tone gets him out of his momentary stupor. He half-nods, half-shrugs, unsure by what his response should be. Emma doesn’t mind, though, adding with renewed excitement: “Oh, and _Spin the Bottle_! Definitely _Spin the Bottle_!”

A feeling of dread immediately settles over Isak, but he nods encouragingly: “Sounds good.”

Even takes a sip of his drink, almost completely hidden behind the newly arriving throng of bodies. Isak feels himself blush when he momentarily turns around and catches him staring. Again.

“Catch you later,” he says to Emma, who’s now anxiously playing with a strand of her short hair. Isak locates his friends, engaged in some weird swallow-without-pausing contest with Eva and Chris, and makes a swift beeline towards them. He turns his back on Emma, relaxing a bit, and swears to himself he won’t look _that_ way.

**FRIDAY, 21:35**

A girl from 2A, Ursula, has injured herself after slipping in the shower in the afternoon; she soon becomes the hero of the partygoers. Confined to bed-rest for the rest of the trip, she's had herself carried up to the top floor, where she's currently monitoring the processions in the teachers' room.

"Ursula says all of them have arrived at this point," Chris, who's in charge of restocking the party's alcohol supply, says to the small circle of students gathered around her. She's holding her phone stealthily, as if it's a transmitter and she's relaying a secret message. "We have at least five minutes to get the stuff from Susanna's room. Go go go!"

Isak watches the scene unfold from where he's sitting on a carpet, half-heartedly playing a game of Scrabble with Jonas and Eva. He's paying it about as much attention as the two of them, currently engaged in a disturbingly-intense staring match. He's half expecting them to jump on each other, like they do in the movies, and destroy the painstakingly constructed words on the gameboard.

"They've put on music!" Chris announces, raising her arm victoriously. As if on cue, the music in the room swells as well, drowning out a couple of enthusiastic whistles.

"Wanna dance?" Eva asks Jonas, completely forgetting about Isak, their third wheel. Jonas nods immediately and they get up, leaving him in a rather sad slump.

Isak looks around, searching for some sort of anchor. It's not his style to end up looking like the lost puppy at a party; even when he's not in the mood, he at least likes to make an effort to pretend he's enjoying himself. All of his friends seem busy - be it chugging down cheap beer, flirting shamelessly or -

Even's still chatting with people Isak doesn't really know, bobbing his head in the rhythm of the song. Simultaneously, though, he's checking something on his phone, his fingers tapping the screen as if he's in a rush. For a second, Isak gets an urge to check his phone for messages, but, with a flash of disappointment, he realizes there would be no way for him to miss any; he's had his phone in his back pocket all night, on full volume.

He makes a quick-fire decision to just suck it up and go join Even's group, but halfway through the room, Emma jumps into his path. She's beaming, obviously tipsy, wearing a flower-crown that's falling onto her forehead. "Isak! Come dance with me!"

"Uh, Emma," he says, trying to come up with an excuse. "I can't dance to this music. It's like - Justin Bieber, or something."

"Exactly! It's great for dancing!" she completely ignores his lack of enthusiasm and grabs him by his sleeves, lightly guiding him into an awkward rocking motion. When he decides to make it easier for her, and actually moves his torso of his own volition, she looks at him in utter delight. _Shit_ , Isak thinks. He can't just - reject her.

Glancing behind Emma, he realises the person he's wanted to talk to is no longer there. All that's left of Even is a slight dip in the mattress he was sitting on, and the now-empty glass he's been holding onto all evening.

"You're a good dancer!" Emma says, interrupting his train of thought. She's subtly edged closer to him, her flower crown now almost poking out his left eye. He can't resist smiling at her a little - that's the least she deserves for such a benevolent lie. It took him years to admit but, _yeah_ , Isak knows that if it came to a battle between skiing and dancing, he'd triumph at the former.

"You're not so bad yourself," he says, deciding to relax a little. It's just dancing. Or, well, side-stepping from one foot to the other, occasionally engaging his midsection to give an impression he's extorting some kind of effort. Encouraged, Emma grabs him be the shoulders and decides to fully take the lead. He lets her.

**22:22**

Three songs later, all of them of dubious quality, Isak finally excuses himself. The last one, a slow dance song, has proven to be too awkward; he deserves a break. And some fresh air. Waiting for a moment when the music winds down a little bit, he slips out onto be balcony in the ensuing quietness, not letting any signs of the party penetrate the outside world.

The room being on the second floor, the view from the balcony is far from breath-taking. It faces the backyard of their hotel, showing a covered-up pool that's out of order, a makeshift parking space for the owners' vehicles, and a large expanse of grass covered with snow. Isak can faintly see outlines of mountains against the skyline, but after seeing them in daylight, they seem fairly unimpressive.

"Taking a break from tearing up the floor?" Isak jumps at the deep voice, whipping his head back to look towards its source. Even's crouching on the other side of the balcony, underneath the windows, his silhouette hidden from the light emanating through them. He has his arms wrapped around his legs, head resting on their tops; the way he's looking at Isak, from underneath his eyelashes, makes him a little weak in his knees.

"Emma needed a break. Not a party animal, that girl. And me - you know," he glances at Emma, now enthusiastically jumping in a circle with her friends, "it's hard to keep up."

"No doubt," Even chuckles. As if noticing the distance between them, each on the opposite side of the balcony, he shuffles a little bit towards its ledge and pats the ground next to himself. Isak eyes it, his eyebrows furrowing. It's freezing.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" he asks, taking a few tentative steps towards Even and testing the stone tiles. _They're_ freezing. He wants to stand up again, but when Even's shoulder touches his, the coldness magically disappears.

Instead of answering, Even points up towards the sky. Isak follows the trajectory and realizes that, despite mentally criticising the view at first, he's completely ignored an important part of the skyline. That is, the sea of extremely bright stars, twinkling in contrast to the darkness of the mountains’ wilderness.

"Oh, it's the meteor shower tonight!" the words slip out of his mouth impulsively as he connects the  dots – today’s date and Even's Facebook post about it.

"Yeah, I was stoked to find it would be happening just when we'd be in Voss," Even exclaims, not taking his own gaze from the sky's coarse texture. "The visibility here - Oslo can't compare."

"For sure," Isak says, a little hesitant. In truth, he can't remember if he's ever made the effort to watch shooting stars. He's never given astronomy that much thought, really, writing it off as soon as he’d realised none of the constellations actually resembled their names.

A huge cheer comes from inside the hotel room behind them, a few claps following. "Spin the bottle, everyone!" someone shouts - well, as far as they dare to shout, with the teachers just a couple of metres above.

Isak compulsively scoots further down, his back brushing the wall. He's pretty sure nobody saw him going to the balcony, but -

"Did you know there was a deleted scene in Titanic, where they watched shooting stars?" Even asks him, out of nowhere. He's still craning his neck upwards, his expression serene.

"No," Isak says, truthfully. Even looks at him from the corner of his eye, but immediately returns his attention to the stars.

"You did see Titanic, though, right?" he says, strangely serious all of a sudden. _Kind of_ , Isak wants to say. He's seen the beginning several times, he's watched the ending to see the special effects, and surely he's seen bits of the middle, but -

"Of course," he says instead, mock-offended. Somehow, he feels this response is more appropriate, as far as impressing Even goes.

"After they leave the dance, when Rose ditches her family, they go up to the deck and see a shooting star," Even explains. If he seemed excited by the stars beforehand, now he appears to be positively vibrating. _Films and astronomy_ , Isak files the two words somewhere in the back of his mind.

"Why did they cut it?" he asks, but before Even has a chance to answer, one of the stars does truly cross the skyline in a bright, instantaneous flash. Both of them lightly jump at the sight of it, their shoulders brushing.

"Did you see it?" Even turns to him, clasping his arm in barely-contained excitement. He's breathing fast, the star giving him a strange adrenaline boost. Isak can't judge him - he feels the same. He nods repeatedly, then sees another bright trail emerging behind Even's head.

"There!" he points at it, making the other boy whip his head around in record speed. Although he's missed the star, they both stay staring at the spot it appeared in, expecting a follow-up.

Five minutes later, they finally cool down a little, their backs untensing. Even, where he's still clutching Isak's cotton sweatshirt, awkwardly takes his hand back. Isak coughs a little, doesn't take his eyes off the sky. Good decision, too, because without any warning, three shooting stars make their descent in almost flawless synchrony.

"Look!" Even says, and jumps up, as if standing up is going to bring him closer to the spectacle. He takes out a phone from his jeans and turns on its camera, aiming it upwards. "I have to catch the next one."

Isak joins him by the railing, observing that Even seems to have installed an actual astrophotography app on his phone.

"Does it work?" he points at it, unsure. He wouldn't be surprised, but somehow the absence of a genuine telescope feels conspicuous.

Even shrugs, half-nods, half-shakes his head. "Haven't tried it yet," he says, turning the display towards Isak. "But Ridley Scott recommended it as a good tool for hobbyists."

Isak scoffs, charmed despite himself. Even's serious explanatory tone makes him want to both tease him, and hear more.

"It can also identify constellations for you," Even says, tapping his display and changing some of the app's settings. This intrigues Isak, one of his eyebrows shooting up.

"Does it also explain all the strange names?" he asks, as Even points the camera upwards again and takes a photo.

"Yes, actually," he nudges Isak's elbow on the balcony's railing, pushing the display under his gaze. There's a picture of stars on it, with faint lines connecting some of them. "That's Camelopardalis. Now, don't say it looks nothing like a camel, _or_ a leopard. There's a lot more to it."

After the preliminary round of falling stars, they can't spot any for a long time. Instead, Even tries to teach Isak about the constellations, first pointing them out in the sky at random, then giving up and using his phone instead. After what feels like eternity, Isak finally spots Ursa Major. Even appears simultaneously relieved and proud.

At last, another star decides to grant them a wish. They both shout, making sure the other one sees it. Miraculously, Even manages to snap a quick picture of it, just before the star fades into darkness.

"You got it!" Isak says, voice needlessly loud.

"I did!" Even says, vibrating.

They stare at each other, then burst out giggling. A couple of stars manages to slip by unnoticed, but hey, what they don't know –

They calm down after that; Even satisfied knowing that he has, at the very least, one piece of photographic evidence, and Isak content in realising something as random as shooting stars can actually bring him joy.

Even tries to snap a couple more pictures, most of them either too late, or catching the star just on the border of their frame. He's not too bothered, though, more bound up in chatting with Isak. The other boy completely forgets how cold he's felt upon first entering the balcony; the winter air seems completely unimportant.

"I can't believe they're still at it," Even says, eventually, pointing towards the room behind them. Isak looks inside and sees a large group of students gathered around one of Mahdi's Sprite bottles, currently spinning in a wild circle.

"Wouldn't be a class trip without it," Isak says. The bottle lands on Eva, and he becomes intrigued when he realizes the person who spun it was Jonas. He turns so that he faces the room, exchanging the theatre of the sky for that of his friends. He'd almost feel bad, but then, everyone's staring. That's kind of the game's point.

"He's finally going to do it," he says, a strange mixture of relief and anxiety in his voice. Although Jonas has refused to discuss the topic at several occasions, he'd been obvious enough. Broken up or not, he never really got over Eva.

Even traces his gaze and raises his eyebrow. Intrigued, he turns to watch the ensuing kiss as well, saying: "Is that your best friend?"

"Yes. Well, both of them. I used to be close to Eva, until -" Isak pauses. At once he can't locate a precise point in time when his and Eva's friendship started mellowing, "last year, I guess."

Something about his grudging tone stops Even from asking him more questions; this obviously pains him, though, as he keeps glancing back and forth between Isak and the couple inside, biting his lip.

Finally, Eva lets go of Jonas and shuffles back to her spot in the group. Her face is blazing. Vilde, who sits next to her, doesn't waste time waiting for everyone to settle, and reaches towards the bottle. She spins it, holds her breath, watches it land on an unknown boy from 3B. Her disappointment is palpable.

"It's your turn," Even says, his voice a surprise after the prolonged silence. Isak doesn't quite understand what the boy means, and his confusion must show. "The _bottle_. It landed on you."

Even more confused, he looks back to realise the bottle truly is pointing towards where he's standing. Well, if he decides to ignore the boy that Vilde is still regarding with marked suspicion.

"I mean, kind of, but, " he turns back to Even, and his breath hitches. He comes face to face with him, incredibly close. He can feel the warmth radiating from Even's body, can feel his breath on his own cheeks. He's close enough that he can truly count his freckles, then even closer, so that he can no longer focus on them, because they become a blur. Isak's whole body transforms into a tightly wound string, pulled taut in anticipation, expecting a release. Maybe he should just -

"I repeat, Ursula says they're coming towards us! Mayday, mayday!"

In a rapid succession of events, Chris starts shouting warnings inside the room, which ensues in immediate chaos. Students fly all across the room in their efforts to hide. Isak finds himself crashing back to reality as the doors off the balcony fly open, a couple of students sliding underneath the window to hide there. Somehow, Even is no longer next to him, rather standing on the opposite end of the balcony. It's as if the last few seconds have never happened.

"Everyone, hide the bottles!" Emma yells, surprisingly calm. Although he's far from caring, Isak crouches to blend in with the other students. He leans his head against the wall, resolutely not looking at Even. _What was that?_

"Five, four, three," someone's voice is saying, and he sees the light go off in the room. The countdown never gets finished, the students falling completely silent.

Then, the door opens and one of their teachers enquires whether the girls are ready for bed. At least, that's what he thinks, considering the muffled quality of the teacher's voice, and the avalanche of unrelated thoughts assaulting his mind. A minute or two later, the lights come on again, and somebody opens the balcony door, beckoning the students in. "She's left now. We're in the clear."

His classmates leave as quickly as they came, but he stays rooted to the spot. When he gathers the courage to look up, Even is nowhere to be seen. He doesn't have to stand up to know he won't find him in the room, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a while, but hey, I wrote my end-of-term essay instead! The newest episode was heartbreaking, but I believe it was necessary, and there's a happy ending waiting for us, and the boys. In the meantime, hope this makes some of you feel better <3


End file.
